


so many twists and curves

by starforged



Series: FSF: Tarot Card Prompt Challenge [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Community: femslashficlets, F/F, Gen, implied to lead to more than talking, t for language, when the distortion met the slaughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starforged/pseuds/starforged
Summary: Melanie is lonely. Helen is bored.15. The Devil -The pain and delight of giving in to temptation.
Relationships: Melanie King/Helen Richardson
Series: FSF: Tarot Card Prompt Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769140
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: femslashficlets: tarot prompt challenge





	so many twists and curves

The halls are lonely now in the Institute. All those warm bodies are gone. Those that remain might as well just be ghosts. It’s absolutely boring. Maddening. There’s a caged animal locked up inside of Melanie that wishes to have someone to lash out at. 

So she stalks the Archives, tries to focus on her job, tries to figure out what she is what’s inside of her who she is. 

The door is always the same, but it never stays where it’s supposed to. Framed by dark wood, the door painted white, with no knob to speak of. Once, Melanie finds it in the middle of the stacks, slicing into books. There are pages spread along the floor. 

Oh, she knows that whatever is behind it is dangerous. A fear coils inside of her stomach and digs its claws into her. What is behind that door is not meant for her, but it doesn’t stop her from wanting to leave it behind. But it’s been following her, she feels like. She’s as much prey as she is predator these days, and what a very odd thought to have about one’s self. 

She hates it. She _hates_ that fear and its bitter taste, like bile and blood. It’s the same fear she feels from Elias, the bastard. If only she could have sunk her knife into him, again and again and again. Maybe his blood would have erased this taste from her mouth.

With a growl, Melanie knocks on the door. She balls up her fist and bangs on it. Both fists, pummeling into the wood with every ounce of anger inside of her. 

The woman who opens it is not quite a woman at all. She falls apart at the edges of Melanie’s vision. When she smiles, her mouth is too wide. “Hello, Melanie.”

She opens the door wide. Melanie stares. 

“The fuck…”

“I’m Helen. A friend,” Helen says in a way that sends a shiver down her spine. 

A monster. That’s what she is, a different kind of monster from whatever the fuck Elias is, but a monster all the same. Behind her too tall too short too thin form are doors, so many doors. They’re all in different shapes, colors, knobs. They swirl together in Melanie’s vision. 

She barks with laughter, as if it has come from the pit of her miserable, angry soul. A friend. Basira is merely a ghost, she has ignored all of Georgie’s calls, Tim is _dead_. They were friends. 

“I’m lonely as well,” Helen tells her. It seems sincere. It strikes a chord. “Jonathon Sims used to be around, but he’s boring now.”

“That’s one way to refer to a coma,” Melanie replies. 

The woman monster leans against her strange door frame. She’s beautiful in a really fucked up way. So many twists and curves and long hair and oddly human eyes. Perhaps that’s what makes Melanie feel slightly more at ease. 

“Would you like to come in and talk?” Helen holds out her hand. Her fingers are strange, too long for a body, slender. 

Melanie places her hand in Helen’s. “I have nothing better to do here.”


End file.
